


peanut butter grilled cheese

by Mellomailbox



Series: on the wall verse [3]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Canon Disabled Character, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Professor Dad, dadneto, wall verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 06:19:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3164462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellomailbox/pseuds/Mellomailbox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shameless domestic fluff, or; an afternoon in the Lehnsherr/Xavier/Maximoff household.</p>
            </blockquote>





	peanut butter grilled cheese

**Author's Note:**

> Set in my wallverse roughly a year after Charles and Erik meet. The twins are around 3 years old.

Charles was setting up for his office hours when he felt the twinge of distress pulse along his telepathy. He stopped pulling papers out of the bag strapped along the back of his wheelchair and pressed his fingers to his temple, massaging it in a crutch he used when needing to use his powers long distance.

Erik was across the city at their apartment and radiating stress that was edging on the side of panic. They’d been together for a year, which was long enough for them to be comfortable living together but not long enough for Erik to be completely used to his telepathy, so Charles made sure to give Erik the equivalent of a gentle mental knock, waiting until his surprise had passed and he’d given Charles willing access before asking, _‘Is everything all right?’_

There was a pause as Erik struggled to arrange his thoughts in a way that Charles could read past his anxiety, sending back _‘Probably. I don’t know. One of us left the peanut butter down and Pietro got a hold of it and ran away before I could catch him.’_ There was a strong flash of irritation/pride at the mention of Pietro’s exceptionally young manifestation before he went on, _‘Wanda is in her crib for her nap but she could wake up any minute.’_

Charles’ own alarm rose at the information, and he felt via impressions more than sight itself when Pietro came zipping across the kitchen and out of Erik’s reach before exiting back towards the living room, Erik’s powers useless since Pietro was bare ass naked.

 _‘Wanda’s epi-pen is in the drawer to your right,’_ Charles said, deflecting Erik’s annoyance at Charles insinuation that he didn’t already know, ‘ _I’m on my way home. Your nerves are fried. Do you want me to stop Pietro?’_

Charles was packed and had written a note for the classroom door by the time Erik responded, touch on his mind light while he tried in vain again to catch Pietro.

 _‘No._ ’ He thought simply, his desire to encourage his children’s mutations winning over his frustration. _‘You could warn me when Wanda wakes, though.’_

Erik was on the verge of a parental breakdown, and Charles could feel it acutely enough that his own nerves were set on edge, so he sent a wave of calm at Erik before giving him the impression of a kiss goodbye, severing the connection before he let himself get swept up in Erik’s emotions.

Charles taped the note cancelling his office hours to the door on his way out, only momentarily melancholy over the fact that he couldn’t reach high enough to tape it at eye-sight, and rolled as quickly as he could to the teachers’ garage attached to the building.

\--

“Erik?” Charles called tentatively when he entered the house, depositing his keys in the bowl by the door and setting his bag down next to their shoes.

Erik sent an image of the bathroom, which Charles rolled to, relieved to see no signs of Pietro’s peanut-y handprints on the walls. There was the faintest scent of citrus, so Erik must have already cleaned up.

His wheelchair was too wide to make it through the door frame to the main bathroom, so he stopped at the entrance, radiating amusement at the sight of Erik struggling to get peanut butter out of Pietro’s pale hair, the toddler splashing lethargically at his father simply out of the desire to be contrary, lids drooping as he fought sleep.

“Hey,” Erik said in greeting, not needing to turn around to know he was there, and Charles tried not to overhear as he thought ‘wish I didn’t need him to come, his job is important’.

“Hey” Charles said fondly, and Pietro perked up at the sound of his voice and gave Charles an elated smile.

“Hiiiii” He sung, and splashed more enthusiastically at Erik. “I made a mess.”

Charles huffed a laugh, agreeing, “Yes, you did. You also didn’t listen to your Papa.”

Pietro only grinned wider at that, pleased to have been a troublemaker, and Erik dumped water over his head without warning. Pietro sputtered, and gave Erik a watery pout once he’d wiped the soap out of his eyes, testing the idea of crying or not. Erik raised a brow at him knowingly and Pietro fought a smile, grumbling about soap in his mouth.

Charles was given a mental warning just before a high whine came from the twins’ bedroom, and he turned his chair immediately, calming Erik’s spike of stress at the sound of his daughter crying. “She just needs a diaper change, I’ve got her. You finish cleaning your nudist.”

He could feel Erik’s discontent stewing in the bathroom but ignored it in favor of soothing Wanda, opening the door and reaching up to hit the light switch.

Wanda was sitting up in her crib, eyes blinking blearily and hair a tangled halo around her head. It was long and thick for a girl her age, a constant battle that had Erik constantly threatening to chop it off whenever he was forced to brush it.

“Good morning sleepyhead,” Charles called, and her scowl only deepened at the cheerfulness. Just like her father. “If you grab your diaper and meet me in the living room, maybe I can get your papa to make you a cheese sandwich.”

She blinked sleepily at him a couple times, testing out a whine in the back of her throat, before nodding solemnly and scrambling over the useless bar of her crib to drop to the carpet. She stumbled and fell onto her butt, and turned to look at him, lips quirking in the sort of amusement that children had at anything unexpected.

Charles laughed loud and dramatically for her benefit, and Wanda graced him with one of her rare smiles before scrambling up and digging a diaper and case of baby wipes from the box by the door.

She crawled into his lap easily, head resting tiredly on his collarbone, and Charles tried to be gentle as he rolled them to the living room. “This is your stop,” He murmured into her hair, and she slid from his lap, diaper and wipes still in hand. Charles locked his wheels and lowered himself to the floor, positioning his legs so that he could lean on one hand and change her deftly with the other.

He and Erik had spoken at length to the sort of accommodations that they would make for him once they moved, but the decision for Charles to move into their apartment rather than have them move into his mansion was to help keep the children assimilated. He could suffer through a few months of difficult living while they found a place suited to the four of them if it was what was best for Wanda and Pietro.

Charles pulled Wanda’s shorts up, balled up the dirty diaper and handed it to her. “Throw this away?” He asked, making the sign for ‘trash.’ Wanda grinned and took the soiled diaper, leaving Charles to lift himself back into his chair, wipes left on the floor until Erik would notice and put them away.

Charles was washing his hands and Wanda leaning lazily against his chair when Erik walked in with a sleepy Pietro in his arms, brow raised when Wanda shouted “cheese!” while simultaneously making the sign for it.

“That’s the first thing she’s said all day,” Erik said by way of answering, and passed Pietro off to Charles once his hands were dry. Pietro tucked his face into Charles’ shoulder in the exact spot that Wanda had, and Charles couldn’t help the gleeful flutter in his chest at the familiarity of it.

This was his family.

As much as Charles wanted to dwell in the heady sensation of home, Erik was still on the edge of hysteria, although Charles’ calm demeanor and assistance with the children had tapered it off a bit.

Wanda shouted “cheese!” again with more force, leaning up so that Erik could see that she was still making the sign for it, and Charles couldn’t help but laugh.

“I told your daughter you’d make her a cheese sandwich.” He said, petting Pietro’s drying hair as he stubbornly tried to blink his eyes open.

“What do you say, schatz?” Erik asked her, hand poised on the fridge door. Erik was waiting for a word, but Wanda only rubbed her palm across her chest in the sign for ‘please.’

Erik huffed and tried not to get irritated, opening the fridge with a little more force than necessary. “I don’t know why she only talks to you,” he mumbled, though Wanda was blissfully ignorant of Erik’s frustration with her as she hopped in place excitedly at the prospect of food.

Pietro had finally dozed off against Charles’ collarbone, soft breaths even and with a slight snore, so rather than wake him by speaking Charles responded mentally. _‘I have a theory that it’s related to her mutation. I’m thinking there’s some psionic aspect to it, but I can’t be sure until she fully manifests.’_

Erik handed the sandwich to Wanda in two triangles and pointed her towards the tiny rainbow toddler table in the corner of the kitchen. She skipped happily to her seat, triangle already in her mouth, and Erik sagged against the island. “We don’t even know if she’s a mutant, Charles.”

Charles sent a dismissive pulse at Erik, thinking, _‘Fraternal or not, it’s nearly statistically impossible for one twin to be a mutant and the other to be baseline. Just give her time.’_

Erik let the subject drop, choosing instead to pad over to Charles and give him a weary kiss hello, t-shirt still damp from where Pietro had been splashing him in the bath.

“Go get cleaned up, love.” Charles whispered against his mouth, cautious of Pietro. “Get yourself a snack and take a nap. I can hold down the fort for a couple of hours.”

Erik didn’t even argue at this point, just pushed appreciation and affection as strongly as he could at Charles, pecked his lips once more and disappeared into their bedroom to take a long awaited shower in peace and silence.

Charles reached for the novel sitting on the counter from where he’d left it that morning, one palm flat on Pietro’s back to keep him steady, and settled down for the duration of Erik’s shower.  

\---

By the time Erik emerged from the bedroom, skin pinked and the scent of his minty soap following him like a perfume, Charles had fallen asleep with his chin settled atop Pietro’s head.

Wanda turned from where she’d turned on the muted T.V., finger to her lips in the universal gesture for quiet, and Erik mimicked it with a smile before entering the kitchen and gently rescuing Charles’ book from his limp hand. There was the briefest stir from his telepathy at the touch, and Erik tried to project calm and safe as he unlocked Charles’ breaks and gently pushed him into the living room with Wanda, a careful hold on the metal in Pietro’s clothing so that he wouldn’t slip off of Charles’ lap.

Charles would get a painful knot in his back if Erik let him sleep like that for long, but he also knew that he’d get an earful if he woke Pietro out of his concern for Charles, so Erik settled himself on the couch with a blanket, Charles’ book, and left Charles and Pietro as they were. Wanda was sitting with her head tilted peculiarly, entertained by the silent gestures of the animated cartoon on the t.v. in front of her, and Erik smiled when she absently got up and scrambled onto his lap, eyes never leaving the screen.

“Do you want me to turn the sound on?” He asked, and she shook her head. Erik expected that to be all he would get in answer, but she pulled the blanket over herself and settled more comfortably against Erik’s chest, saying, “No, thank you, this is perfect.”

Erik couldn’t help his delighted grin, glancing to see if Charles was awake. He was still dozing with his face pressed against the top of Pietro’s head, white strings of his hair stuck to Charles’ face where it had dried pressed against his cheek, and Erik let the grin spread, smug and pleased and a little bit exhausted.

Yeah, it was perfect.


End file.
